Sensation: A Superhero Novel (5 page)

            Like a lot of other wealthy brats, Paramount attracted sycophants like cow patties drew flies.  He could usually be found with an entourage following him around and hanging on his every word.  And almost all of them were guys with super strength.  Those who can’t lift a locomotive need not apply.

            It was no different today, as Paramount sauntered out onto the field during our game, followed by a bunch of muscled brutes who I assumed were his teammates.  “You guys need to wrap up.  We’re on next, and we need to get in a few minutes of practice before our game.”

            “We’ll be finished in a minute,” I said, barely paying attention to him.

            “You don’t understand,” he continued.  “You need to wrap up
now
.”

            “No, we’re going to finish this game.”  I turned to Icarus, our quarterback, a cherubic guy with wings.  “Call for the ball.  The rest of you guys, get on the line.”

            My teammates slowly moved into position.  Icarus looked hopefully over to the bleachers.  There was always a superhero on duty to make sure the games didn’t get out of hand.  Today it was Esper.  As her name implied, Esper was psychic, and she currently wore the crown of reigning telepath on the planet. She had barely been paying attention to the game before, but now she leaned forward, keenly interested, although she didn’t interfere.  Icarus looked nervously back and forth between me and Paramount.

            “I’m out of here,” he finally said, and zoomed up into the sky.

            I cast a glance at Paramount, who had a self-satisfied grin on his face.

            “Fine,” I said, moving under center, “I’ll be quarterback.” 

            Suddenly, the captain of the opposing team interjected. “Hey, it’s okay.  We’ll finish another time.”

            “No,” I stated flatly.  “My team is down by four points, and we’re going to win this game.”

            “Then we’ll forfeit,” said the other captain diplomatically.  “Right, guys?”  His teammates nodded solemnly, and they collectively began walking to the sideline. 

            Paramount turned to me, totally smug, with his arms crossed. 

            “Opponents or not, we’re finishing this game,” I declared.  When my teammates didn’t seem to hear me, I shouted.  “Smokescreen!  Bounce!  Get your butts on the line!  The rest of you, too!”

            My teammates looked a little unsure.  Finally, Smokescreen shrugged and then got in place on the line of scrimmage. After a few seconds, everyone else followed suit.

            Without warning, Paramount took a place on the other side of the line of scrimmage.

            “No freebies today,” he announced, getting into a three-point stance. “We’re subbing for the defense.”  With vicious grins, the rest of his squad also got into position.

            Several of my teammates exchanged nervous glances. Simply defying Paramount was one thing.  Playing against him in a rough-and-tumble sport was something else entirely.

            I didn’t give them time to change their minds.  I called for the ball, but I barely had it in my hands before Paramount was on me, sacking me - hard - for a loss.  He was so fast that he almost got to me before the ball.  He got up laughing as I took a moment to catch my breath before rising.  I looked around and saw that the rest of our players had been equally roughhoused by his teammates - faces shoved forcefully into the turf, clothes covered in dirt.  Paramount and his crew were playing us a lot tougher than what was called for - and thoroughly enjoying it.

            The next two plays were essentially repeats of the first, ending up with me on my back and us taking a loss on the play.  My teammates, likewise, were ferociously manhandled. I got up after third down feeling completely frustrated. I glanced at the scoreboard – only time for one more play. Nearby I saw Esper in the bleachers, still watching us intently. Suddenly I had an idea.

            I opened up a tiny hole in my mental defenses and shot a thought to Claire Voyant.

            I ignored the undercurrent of schoolgirl giddiness in her mental tone.

            A few seconds later we were all mentally linked, and I quickly explained my plan.  There was no guarantee that it would work, but it was the last play of the game, so why not?

            Everyone got in position. I looked to see if they were all ready and was happy to see gritty determination on a few faces.  I began my snap count.  Just before the ball was to be snapped, the area filled with dense fog in every direction for twenty yards. (Excellent job, Smokescreen.)

            I heard Paramount’s voice register surprise.  “What the…?”

            With normal vision I couldn’t see anything, so – after breaking my telepathic link with the team – I switched over from the visible light spectrum to infrared and called for the ball.  I caught it with ease.

            Looking around, I could see almost everyone on the field (or rather, the energy they emitted).  I saw Paramount rushing towards me, a huge swirling mass of crimson.  From what I knew of his powers, I was sure he couldn’t see me or the ball; he’d just headed in the last direction he’d seen me.  I stepped nimbly to the side as he went rushing past. 

            Turning my attention downfield, I could see Bounce running all out, elongated neck and arms rising above the fog.  I flung the ball down the field.  His arms being stretched as far as they were, it was impossible to overthrow him.  He caught the ball with ease and kept running without breaking stride.  We were going to win!

            I was so excited that I almost missed the huge scarlet body closing in on Bounce.  It was Goon, a beastly member of Paramount’s team.  He wasn’t what you would have called superfast, but he still had impressive speed.  He closed the gap between him and Bounce in a frighteningly short span of time. 

            Goon dove at Bounce, catching him around the ankles.  His momentum carried them forward, and – with great presence of mind – Bounce twisted in Goon’s grip, his rubberized bones allowing him to turn his body backwards from the knees and above while his feet still faced forward.  I recognized this as an effort on Bounce’s part to buy a few precious microseconds by keeping his knees off the ground, and I loved him for it.

As his body arced towards the ground, Bounce extended his hand with the ball behind him towards the end zone.  It was clearly going to be a photo finish, but just bare moments before his body hit the turf the ball crossed the plane of the goal line.  I switched back to normal vision and opened my mind back up to Claire’s team link.

            Bounce was mentally screaming.

            My teammates all ran shouting towards the end zone, where Bounce still lay on the ground, holding the football like it was a million dollars.  We lifted him up on our shoulders, still shouting.  Even on the sideline, people were whooping and cheering.  We were just starting to carry Bounce off the field when suddenly Paramount was there in front of us.

            The cheers died down as he just stood there, glaring at us and breathing heavily. We lowered Bounce gently to the ground and walked off the field, feeling his murderous stare on our backs. As we reached the sideline, Bounce suddenly turned to me and tossed me the football, which he was still holding, and then tilted his head in Paramount’s direction.  I nodded and turned.

            “Hey!” I shouted to get Paramount’s attention.  “For your game.”

            I tossed the ball to him in a lazy arc.  A hazy blue glow filled Paramount’s eyes. At the zenith of its approach, the football was obliterated as a beam of light from those eyes lanced out and touched it.  A deafening silence suddenly settled on the entire assemblage, as everyone – including me – stood stunned.

            Alpha Prime had an impressive and enviable power set:  flight, super strength, super speed, and a myriad of others.  However, the most impressive and deadly weapon in his arsenal was his Bolt Blast – powerful beams of energy that originated from his eyes and which would disintegrate anything they came into contact with:  flesh, wood, steel, stone….  However, even against hardened criminals, AP would only use his Bolt Blast in the most dire situations.

            Paramount had seemingly inherited this deadly power, but was less discriminating than his father in its use (as evidenced by Exhibit A, the football). 

            A bullhorn suddenly sounded in our minds, drowning out all other thoughts.

            It was Esper, finally taking control of the situation.

            Paramount began walking sheepishly back towards the main campus.

            I was preparing to go off with the rest of my teammates when I heard a follow-up command.

           
Oh, great.  What did I do?

Chapter 5

            The Academy was actually a fascinating facility.  First of all, as I understood it, the school actually existed in another dimension; the planes bringing the kids here every weekend actually had to fly through a dimensional vortex.  That way, students enrolled there could be trained in relative peace and safety, far from prying eyes.

            The area that made up the campus was huge, about as large as a mid-sized city, and had parks, forests, lakes, and more. (I suppose if you’re going to create an extra-dimensional school for super-powered teens, there’s no need to think small.)  And students attending the Academy had every modern convenience you could think of, from food dispensers to holographic training rooms.

            Up on the main campus, I’d been sitting in a chair outside the principal’s office for about an hour.  Actually, it was a chair outside the teacher’s lounge, but it felt like waiting outside the principal’s office.  I wasn’t sure why I was here; going over everything in my mind, I couldn’t see why they’d need to talk to me.  It was Paramount who had gone over the top out there on the field.

            Without warning, I heard the knob turn and the door was opened by an Alpha League member called Mouse.  He had joined the League about two years earlier, but was still pretty much a mystery. Contrary to what his name implied, he was a big guy - about six-three - and while clearly not a bodybuilder, he was obviously in great shape.  He wasn’t a household name by any stretch of the imagination and no one knew exactly what his powers were, but you don’t get asked to join the Alpha League unless you’re a big gun.

            Mouse motioned me inside. I got up slowly, still concerned about what was happening here.

            There were two other supers inside when I entered:  Vixen, the empathic Siren, and Feral, an eight-foot hirsute monstrosity of muscle. Vixen and Mouse wore the trademark black-and-gold uniform of the Alpha League.  As hairy as he was, Feral could have gotten away with wearing nothing at all.  However, he had deigned to wear his uniform pants, although his torso was bare.

            Mouse motioned to a chair and I sat.  The three supers stood in a sort of semicircle around me.  They were a few feet away, but it still felt like they were looming.  Mouse glanced at some papers he was holding, then spoke.

            “It says here that you go by Jim,” he said.  “Is it okay to call you that?”

            I shrugged.  “Fine by me.”

            “There’s no indication of what your powers are,” he went on.

            “Apparently I have a talent for getting into trouble.”  This got a few chuckles and caused Vixen to chime in.

            “You’re not in trouble, sweetie,” she said, leaning forward to pat my leg.  Her voice was like honey, and where she touched my leg I felt a glowing warmth.  Of course! She was a Siren!  She had the power to sway the opposite sex to do whatever she wanted, among other things.  I was suddenly on my guard.

            “Then why does this feel like an interrogation?” I asked.

            The three exchanged glances, and then Mouse pulled up a chair and sat down. Vixen and Feral did the same.

            “We saw what happened out there.” Feral this time.  “We just want to talk to you about it.”

            “Wait a minute.”  I was confused.  “You saw it?”

            “Through Esper’s eyes,” Mouse explained.  “She linked with us telepathically and shared her memories.”

            “Then if you saw everything and know what happened, why am I here?”

            There was silence for a few seconds, and then Mouse spoke to his companions.  “Guys, give us a few minutes.”

            Feral and Vixen rose and began walking out.  As she left, Vixen leaned down and whispered something to Mouse, then tilted her head in my direction. Mouse shook his head vigorously in the negative. I had a sneaking suspicion she had just been told not to use her powers on me.

            After they were gone, Mouse sighed.  “You know where you are, right?  The Academy.”  He swept his arm around in a wide, encompassing gesture.  “The place where fledgling superheroes come to train.  We have all kinds of kids here, with all kinds of powers.  But sometimes that’s not enough.”

            “What do you mean?” I asked.

            “There are some things that you can’t teach.  There are some things you can’t make up for, no matter what kind of power you have.”

            I didn’t know where he was going with this.  “Like what?”

            “Like leadership.”  He leaned in close.  “Look, I saw what you did with your team out there on the field.  You took a ragtag bunch of kids with low power levels and got them to beat a team, that – on paper – was bigger, better, stronger and faster.  You’ve got the kind of intangibles we’re looking for - the kind we need.  I’m not saying that what you did was sustainable, that you could have beaten them over four full quarters.  But you don’t have to win every battle to win the war.  Sometimes you just need to hang on, and that’s a victory in and of itself.”